


A lineage and an orange cat

by IdlyWoolgathering



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Grandpa Dooku, Medical Inaccuracies, No beta we die like younglings, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, basically there's a loth cat and it gets Obi-Wan sick, qui-gon and his pathetic lifeforms, tag warning for tape worms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:21:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25905001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdlyWoolgathering/pseuds/IdlyWoolgathering
Summary: The loth cat is large, orange, and very sick.Quite frankly, Obi-Wan isn't sure what to do with her. The coughing and weight loss had started about the time Qui-Gon left on a solo mission and had only worsened in the almost month since. Obi-Wan had smuggled the cat out of the temple and into the city for a vet check-up over a week ago, but they hadn't been able to figure out what was wrong, citing nerves as her problem. Obi-Wan had probed at her with the force, too, but hadn't been able to identify anything.Still, he knows it isn't just nerves and he really doesn't want to kill his master's cat.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 148





	A lineage and an orange cat

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a TIFU reddit post from a couple months back about some poor person whose cat gave them tapeworms. It made me laugh and I couldn't stop thinking about using the post as a base for a story so... here we go. Not beta'd so forgive any mistakes.

  


The loth cat is large, orange, and _very_ sick.

  


Quite frankly, Obi-Wan isn't sure what to do with her. The coughing and weight loss had started about the time Qui-Gon left on a solo mission and had only worsened in the almost month since. Obi-Wan had smuggled the cat out of the temple and into the city for a vet check-up over a week ago, but they hadn't been able to figure out what was wrong, citing nerves as her problem. Obi-Wan had probed at her with the force, too, but hadn't been able to identify anything.

  


Still, he knows it isn't just nerves and he _really_ doesn't want to kill his master's cat.

  


Ba'yair- lovingly named so after she chewed up multiple items of clothing and the bottom half of the couch- had secretly joined their apartment after Qui-Gon had found her in the lower streets of Coruscant, emaciated and scared. Naturally, the Jedi Master had been unable to leave her. He'd nursed her back to relative health and then tried to release her to live with the other temple cats, only for her to refuse to leave.

  


Normally, Obi-Wan wouldn't have minded the extra housemate. Force be with him, but his master drags anything wet, ruffled, and a little sad back to their apartment to be cared for. The difference this time, he supposes, is that their guest is more permanent and Ba'yair _hates_ him.

  


Obi-Wan takes small comfort in the fact that Ba'yair seems to dislike _everyone_ who's not Qui-Gon, even hissing at Tahl when she came by. He's no competition to Tahl, and if _she_ doesn't have a chance then he certainly doesn't. Still, despite their tenuous relationship, he doesn't want to _kill_ Ba'yair. Which seems to be what's happening quickly despite Obi-Wan's best efforts.

  


Maybe he'll take Ba'yair to a different clinic in the morning.

  


~

  


Obi-Wan wakes up coughing.

  


He skulks around the house all morning, lungs aching while he listens to Ba'yair's likewise wretched coughs. There are tufts of orange fur all around the apartment, and as much as Obi-Wan knows it's his job to clean it up and hide evidence of Qui-Gon's pet from visitors, he's just so _tired_.

  


It's not like anyone is checking in with him anyway, as Tahl is on a research mission, Yoda is on Dagobah, and Mace is off on an undisclosed mission. His own friends are all off on missions too, and he doesn't think he's seen anyone he considers to be in his close circle this entire month. It's rather lonely. Feeling a little depressed, Obi-Wan lets out another harsh cough.

  


Maybe he'll feel better once he drinks a cup of tea.

  


The water takes a minute to heat, Ba'yair coming up around his ankles in an unusual show of tolerance towards him. He doesn't relax. The cat is an absolute terror to him and his limbs, not that Qui-Gon will ever admit it. He has several deep, still healing marks on his arms and neck from the first few days of Qui-Gon's departure. Obi-Wan looks down at the cat, who stares unblinkingly back at him with big green eyes.

  


“Good morning, Ba'yair,” he says, “I hope you're feeling better than I am,” Ba'yair stares pensively at him, ears flicking back as a soft rumble starts in her chest. A spark of hope ignites in Obi-Wan. Is this- the kettle goes off and with a start, Ba'yair swipes her claws down his legs and takes off running.

  


By the time he's bandaged his leg and the tea has steeped, it's cold. Ba'yair stares at him from just behind the couch, eyes glinting. Obi-Wan scowls at her, nursing his cold leaf water defiantly.

  


“ _Ge'hutuun_ ,” he snaps at her, “you're lucky Qui-Gon loves you,” he sees the faint outline of a tail swish, “I'm just unlucky he loves you more than he loves me,” he grouses, finally moving to pour out his tea as another, deep cough rattles his chest, a smaller cough echoed from behind the couch. He frowns as he watches the tea pour down the drain.

  


What if they're sick with the same thing?

  


He hopes not, but then again... frowning, Obi-Wan sets down his teacup and heads into the fresher to stare pensively at himself in the mirror. Has he gotten thinner? He thinks it's possible. He doesn't weigh himself all that often, since seeing his weight only makes Qui-Gon fret. It's hard to tell with all his, well, _everything_.

  


Simply put, Obi-Wan looks awful. His clothes are rumpled and covered in fur, his hands are marred with scratches and bites, and his skin is so pale it's more yellow and green than pink, barring the deep purple bags under his eyes. His cheeks are gaunt and his eyes seem almost sunken. He looks like he'd died a week ago.

  


Force, he looks like the human version of Ba'yair.

  


Hesitantly, he pulls out his rumpled padawan braid. A handful of hair comes out as he smooths the hair desperately, pulling easily out of his scalp. Force. He's losing hair. What is he going to do? He sits down hard on the floor, loosely braiding his hair and avoiding putting in any decorations.

  


Going to the healing halls is out of the question. He can't let Qui-Gon know that he got his cat sick, struggled to cure it for almost a month, and then caught the illness himself. He just can't! What if his master gets mad at him over Ba'yair? Or feels guilty because it was his cat that got Obi-Wan sick?

  


Maybe if he takes Ba'yair to get a second opinion with this new knowledge, the cat will get diagnosed and then Obi-Wan can accordingly treat himself. It's worth a shot. He sighs and pulls himself up, heading back to his room to put on his civilian clothing, securing the braid safely under a beanie. He hopes the position won't pull more hair out, but he's not feeling super confident about it.

  


He gives Ba'yair a wide berth in the all as he heads into Qui-Gon's room to fetch the backpack he's been using to transport Ba'yair out of the temple. He knows she hates it, but it's hard enough to get himself out like this, much less carrying a struggling cat. He casts a cursory glance at the litterbox.

  


He freezes.

  


_Oh no._

  


~

  


“There were _worms_ crawling in it,” he bemoans to the vet, a tall, pink Mikkian woman who looks sick of him already, “which means that I probably have them too,” she sighs heavily.

  


“Probably,” she admits, “but I can't help you. The tests say that these are Kashyyyk worms- painful, quick working, and deadly to smaller species. Get yourself in to see a doctor, kid,” her gaze softens as she gives him a quick once over, “you look like shit.”

  


“I will,” Obi-Wan promises, “what can we do for Ba'yair?”

  


“A one-time dosage of a strong dewormer should do it,” the vet says as she writes off the prescription with a violent scrawl, “it'll be uncomfortable for her. If she starts having trouble breathing it means the worms are fighting back and killing her. Please bring her in immediately should that happen,” she hands the paper to Obi-Wan, who's still trying to process the information.

  


“Thank you,” he finally says after a moment, “I will,” he gathers up Ba'yair and puts her into the backpack under the unimpressed stare of the vet. It's a credit to the worms, really, that Obi-Wan doesn't gain another open wound on his hand like earlier. He and Ba'yair take their hasty exit. He'd like to drop Ba'yair back off at the temple, but he doesn't think he can sneak in and out in civilian clothes so many times.

  


He'll just have to take Ba'yair to the doctor with him.

  


While it seemed like a simple enough solution, the doctor is not impressed at his lack of name or the cat that's hissing from Obi-Wan's backpack but seems to think keeping Obi-Wan alive is a bit more important than tracking him.

  


“I'm giving you one dose of dewormer,” he lectures sternly, “if you start having trouble breathing or your pain gets unbearable, come back immediately. It means the worms-”

  


“-are trying to kill me, I know,” Obi-Wan interrupts, “how bad is bad on the pain scale?” the doctor is quiet for a moment, contemplating.

  


“You will feel the worms dying,” he finally settles on, “it will be uncomfortable, sometimes bordering into painful. Unbearable is only if you feel like you're being stabbed, over and over is very quick succession,” Obi-Wan nods. He's had worse, he can handle this. The doctor hands Obi-Wan the almost unreadable prescription.

  


“Thank you,” Obi-Wan sighs in exhaustion and heads out the door. Only two more stops. Then he could get rid of the worms and not have to feel so ill anymore.

  


Still, somehow, the pharmacy is worse than the doctor's office. 200 credits for one dose of dewormer seems like overkill to Obi-Wan, but the pharmacist is not up for bargaining.

  


“Buy it or get out,” she snaps, irritably tugging on a strand of dark hair. He'd transferred the backpack to the front of his chest and Ba'yair sticks her head out to glare at the woman. Obi-Wan just sighs. He can't very well die in the name of protesting medicine prices. He begrudgingly doles out the credits and collects his medicine.

  


The old togruta woman behind him clucks her tongue sympathetically and pats his arm, eyes sparkling kindly even as she slightly shows her teeth to the pharmacist.

  


“It's one of those days, huh?” she wheezes and he nods with a sigh.

  


“You have no idea,” he answers, petting Ba'yair's head gently. The woman smiles sharply at the cat as she pulls Obi-Wan's arm out and gives him a chocolate bar and a cat treat.

  


“Get well,” she says, stepping up to the counter.

  


“Thank you,” he calls out politely before making a hasty exit when the pharmacist shoots him another annoyed glance. He eats the chocolate on a bench down the block.

  


It makes him feel more settled than it has any right to.

  


After the pharmacy, he stops by Dex's and gets a meal to-go, trying to laugh off Dex's well-founded worries about his weight. He's exhausted by the time he makes his way back into the temple and slips into his rooms, unseen. There are some benefits to having everyone who could be considered a guardian out of temple.

  


He dims the lights and lights a few candles for good measure as he prepares food for him and Ba'yair. _And I get on Qui-Gon about his pathetic lifeforms. I'm having a funeral for my worms!_ He can't help it. He plays a Stewjoni funeral march for the worms as he and Ba'yair eat their food.

  


They take their medicine solemnly and wait.

  


It turns out, worms dying inside him is _nothing_ like Obi-Wan has ever experienced. It's horrifying and also, very painful. He gives up being dignified after half an hour and makes his way into Qui-Gon's room, curling up on the man's bed and sobbing into the pillow. The bed smells like Qui-Gon. He wishes his master was here right now. He wishes anyone was here.

  


A pitiful meow interrupts his thoughts and he glances across the bed, finding Ba'yair likewise curled up, discomfort rolling off of her in the force.

  


“I know,” he tries to soothe gently, “I know it hurts, but we'll be okay, Ba'yair'ika,” he forces himself to extend an arm and stroke through her soft fur comfortingly. He stays repeating the soft, small motions until they both drift off to sleep.

  


He wakes up to an insistent nudging and licking at his face. He reaches up to try and push Ba'yair away from him.

  


“What's-?” he wheezes, pain snapping into his chest as the air leaves his lungs. He gasps for breath for a few moments, air shallowly making it in. For a moment, all he can do is wrap his arms around his chest and struggle to breathe while Ba'yair whines, distressed, above him. He reaches out in the force to check on her and to his relief, she's breathing fine.

  


It seems only _his_ worms are trying to kill him. Steadying himself, Obi-Wan struggles up out of bed, glad he'd slept in his civilian clothes for once, stumbling into his boots half-mindedly.

  


“I'll be back,” he gasps out to a distressed Ba'yair, “I swear. Be good,” he manages to get out the door without letting the cat out and silently takes off down the hall, trying to conserve his breathing. It's a damn good thing he's a Jedi, or he would have been dead by now.

  


The journey back to the hospital takes longer than he'd like and he bursts in with his last reserves of energy, immediately falling to the floor. The receptionist leaps to her feet and rushes to him, calling out behind her for a team. She steadies him carefully, a hand rubbing back gently.

  


“Hey there, easy,” she murmurs, “can you tell me what's going on?”

  


“Came in earlier,” he wheezes, “I think my worms are killing me. Can't breathe. Hurts,” the only other patient in the waiting room is a young Twi'lek man who looks both fascinated and grossed out. He can't find it in him to glare at the man. He feels gross.

  


“Okay honey,” the receptionist soothes as two nurses rush into the waiting room with a stretcher, “can you tell me who your guardian is?” Obi-Wan's head is spinning as he feels them run some sort of wand over his chest and push him back on the stretcher.

  


“I don't want him to know,” he half begs, “he'll be so upset with me,” one of the nurses runs a hand through his hair soothingly.

  


“Hush now,” he comforts, “we're here to help,” there's a needle in the crook of his arm that he doesn't remember being put there, “what's your name? How old are you?” He has hair like Qui-Gon's- straight and long and salt-and-pepper. His eyes are just a bit too light to be Qui-Gon's.

  


“Obi-Wan,” he slurs out, drugs starting to kick in, “I'm fifteen standard years old,”

  


“Very good,” he praises, “what's your guardian's name?”

  


“Don't call him,” Obi-Wan repeats, “he'll be mad,”

  


“Shouldn't he want you to be taken care of?” the second nurse questions, “since he hasn't done so well himself?” Obi-Wan scowls at her.

  


“Qui-Gon takes excellent care of me,” Obi-Wan manages, indignant, “he's just away right now,”

  


“Okay, okay,” the first nurse soothes, sliding his hat off his head and running a hand through his hair, blinking as he encounters the braid, “does Qui-Gon have any family?” Obi-Wan giggles at the question. He must, somewhere in the galaxy- does _Dooku_ count as his dad? His family?

  


“I guess,” he manages, “he's sort of like his dad. _His_ name is Dooku,” there's a flash of surprise across the other nurse's face. He can hear talking all around him, fading in and out, and there are bright lights above him.

  


“Tell me his comm number?” the first nurse asks brightly as a mask is pressed over Obi-Wan's nose and mouth. He scrunches his nose and unthinkingly recites the number.

  


The darkness pulls him under.

  


~

  


He furrows his brow, head still heavy.

  


The bed beneath him is comfortable and warm, but the air around him smells of citrus-scented cleaner and pain. Obi-Wan hates hospitals. Hates knowing he's in one as soon as he wakes up thanks to the force. Hates being in pain and then being doted on. It's the worst.

  


He slowly opens his eyes and finds that the room's curtains have been drawn shut so the morning sunshine pouring in the window is a soft, dull blue and gold instead of blinding white. Its a standard hospital room- a bed, a night table, and a few chairs, one pulled next to the bed. He blinks a few times to clear his vision, sucking in a careful breath and wincing as he tries to sit up.

  


_Force_ , but his chest is sore! He remembers coming to the hospital, falling in the waiting room, and not much beyond that. Obi-Wan scowls at the sheets. He knows the tender feeling under his skin well. He's had surgery and bacta has closed the wounds.

  


The door eases open with a soft hiss and a young Iktotchi woman steps into the room, arms holding a datapad and a smile on her face.

  


“Good morning, Obi-Wan,” her voice is soft, “how are you feeling?” Obi-Wan tries to smile back.

  


“Sore,” he admits, “did I have surgery?” the nurse nods, seeming a touch surprised.

  


“Yes, you did. The Kashyyyk worms were wrapping themselves around your lungs- we had to remove them surgically. You've gone through a stint in the bacta tank and you're all healed, but the tenderness will linger for a few days. Remember- your body's been through a lot even if it doesn't look like it,” she lectures, “be very careful in the next few days.”

  


“Yes ma'am,” he agrees politely, well used to the spiel by now. The nurse goes to speak, then pauses, hand going to the earpiece in her ear.

  


“Understood,” she says to whoever is on the other line before she turns to him, “your grandfather is here to pick you up,” she informs him brightly, “I'll send him in!” she ducks out of the room, leaving an open-mouthed Obi-Wan behind. His _grandfather?_

  


The door slides open again and Obi-Wan meets the ice blue eyes of his grandmaster. Dooku slides the door shut again and hovers in the doorway for a moment while Obi-Wan gathers his bearings.

  


“M-Master Dooku!” he stutters, before flushing and trying to rise to bow, “I apologize, I don't know how they got a hold of you or knew we were connected but-” he winces as his chest screams in protest and he pitches forward. To his surprise, a hand catches his arm.

  


“Steady now,” Dooku rumbles, settling him back into bed, “don't push yourself. From what I understand, you nearly died,”

  


“It wasn't that bad,” Obi-Wan dismisses, despite having no idea what had happened during surgery. Dooku frowns down at him severely.

  


“Why didn't you just go the healing halls? We have much better healers there,” Obi-Wan drops his gaze to the blankets. He twists his hands together in silence for a moment.

  


“I didn't want Qui-Gon to feel bad,” he admits quietly, and Dooku raises a questioning eyebrow, “he snuck an infected loth cat into the temple. She got me sick,” he explains sheepishly. Exasperation fills every ounce of Dooku's responding exhale.

  


“Of course he did,” the older man bemoans to the ceiling, “does that boy never learn?”

  


“Please don't tell anyone,” Obi-Wan pleads, “Ba'yair and I are going to be fine by the end of the week when he'll be back!” Dooku stares at him blankly for a moment, eyes appraising. Then, he sighs and looks away, something in his shoulders giving.

  


“This is not the first time his foolish attachment to a pitiful creature has made someone sick,” Dooku says staunchly, “I understand your position; your secret is safe with me,” Obi-Wan lifts his gaze incredulously, staring at the Jedi Master. The older man is resolutely staring at the wall, not meeting the padawan's gaze.

  


They sit in awkward, stilted silence for a moment as Obi-Wan studies the man. For all the deep lines and stiff shoulders and face, there's something else in the man, in the way he speaks of Qui-Gon and in his eyes, that speaks of something softer. Something that never makes its way into Qui-Gon's uncharitable stories of his youth.

  


Obi-Wan releases a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and the force wraps itself around him warmly. Formal as Dooku may be, he can't dislike anyone who holds his same exasperated love for Qui-Gon and his antics.

  


“Thank you for coming to get me,” Obi-Wan says, smiling at the Jedi Master and half bowing. Dooku turns to look at him and lifts an eyebrow.

  


“I would never leave my grandpadawan to recover from surgery alone in a dingy civilian hospital,” he sniffs, “are you well enough to return to the temple?” Obi-Wan nods, eager to get away.

  


“Yes, Master Dooku,” he says, and moves to stand again. Instantly, Dooku is gently pressing him back into the pillows.

  


“No, no, stay right there,” he scolds, “I still have to sign you out. I'll be back to collect you with the nurse,” Obi-Wan nods, sufficiently cowed. The older man stands and regally sweeps back out the door in a flutter of black robes. It takes a moment for Obi-Wan to realize that they're _Dooku's_ civilian clothes.

  


Grandfather, indeed.

  


They make it back to the temple in almost record speed, Dooku resting his own outer cloak across Obi-Wan's shoulders to conceal his hospital wear from the temple guards. Apparently, his own clothing had had to be cut off of him thanks to the surgery. The guards seem curious about them being together at all but a swift glare from Dooku has them backing off.

  


They reach the lift- blissfully empty- unaccosted.

  


“Thank you for looking after me, Master Dooku,” Obi-Wan says politely, reaching to hit the button for the floor he and Qui-Gon live on. Dooku hums and smacks his hand away, punching a different button instead. Obi-Wan blinks.

  


“You have just had an extremely invasive surgery,” Dooku says after a moment, “you need caring for. You're coming back to my chambers with me,”

  


“But I-”

  


“I was not asking, Padawan,” Dooku says, effectively hushing Obi-Wan.

  


“But Master Dooku, Ba'yair is still alone in the apartment,” Obi-Wan frets, “I need to check on her and feed her,” Dooku is silent for a long moment before glancing up at the lift ceiling and pinching the bridge of his nose, heaving a long-suffering sigh.

  


“I will check on her,” he says shortly. Obi-Wan blinks at the man for a moment, surprised. Of course he would. He wonders how many animals Dooku had been forced to care for during Qui-Gon's padawanhood. How similar _has_ Qui-Gon made the two of them?

  


“Thank you, grandmaster,” Obi-Wan finally says instead of voicing any of that, smiling up at the man. Dooku glances down at him, something sad going through his eyes.

  


“Looking after you will never be a chore, grandpadawan,” he rest s a gentle hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, “ know that much.”

  


~

  


Obi-Wan's curled on his bed reading his datapad, Ba'yair tucked up into his side and purring. The cat had been enthusiastic to see him when he'd finally returned home, not leaving his side unless she absolutely had to. It was a drastic change from their first difficult weeks.

  


The final week of Qui-Gon's absence had gone by quickly; between learning as much as he could about his grandmaster and catching up on the school he'd missed during his illness, Obi-Wan had been too busy to worry much about his master. Though, there were several things that needed remedying to hide from his master, and some things he couldn't disguise.

  


One being his poor hair, which was still weakened significantly. While the shine had started to come back a little bit thanks to a supplement Dooku had given him, it still ended up in the sink more often than his head. Dooku had simply told him to give it some time and rest, and he was doing his best to trust the older Jedi on it.

  


The second thing being that Dooku had taken it upon himself to deep clean their entire apartment while he was feeding Ba'yair. And had ordered the droids to do a deep clean of the place for any other worms or worm eggs the two of them together had missed.

  


Qui-Gon is probably going to be unnerved by the cleanliness of the place, Obi-Wan reflects with a smile. After all, he liked his apartment covered in plants and a healthy coating of what he called life.

  


Obi-Wan is certain it's just dirt. He's stopped arguing the point.

  


The front door to the apartment slides open and like a balm to his mind, his master's presence fills the apartment. Ba'yair's ears flick up slightly, but she doesn't budge from Obi-Wan's side. After a moment, Obi-Wan hears footsteps towards his room.

  


“Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asks, knocking as he opens the door. Obi-Wan huffs a sigh at that, smiling at his master regardless. Qui-Gon's eyebrow raises at the sight of Ba'yair, who's purring louder but hasn't bothered to move.

  


“Hello there,” he greets cheerfully, hoping he doesn't look too pale, “how was your mission?” Qui-Gon finally lifts his gaze to Obi-Wan's face, amusement in his eyes.

  


“It was successful,” his master says vaguely, crossing over to sit on the bed, “I see you and Ba'yair have worked things out,” Obi-Wan rolls his eyes.

  


“We came to a mutual agreement,” Obi-Wan acquiesces, very gently patting her head, “isn't that right, _dinii'ika?_ ” Qui-Gon smiles at him and tugs on his braid playfully. Obi-Wan holds in a wince as he feels several strands give up. He'll pull them out later, before Qui-Gon insists on rebraiding his hair himself.

  


“What do you think, _Ba'yair'ika?_ ” Qui-Gon asks the ginger cat cheerfully, “was your agreement fair?” he reaches out to pet her.

  


Instantly, she digs her teeth into his hand.

  


For a moment, Qui-Gon just stares at the cat in confusion, blood starting to form beads on his hand and dribble out beyond the bite. Ba'yair gives a faint hiss and then releases him, curling back into Obi-Wan's chest with a huff, turning her back on Qui-Gon. The man's mouth is open in shock, hand frozen and still extended.

  


Obi-Wan can't help it.

  


He giggles.

  


Qui-Gon crosses his arms and turns a betrayed look on Obi-Wan, who simply starts petting Ba'yair in gentle, soft strokes. She starts a deep, rumbling purr, bumping her head against his nose.

  


“You've turned her against me! What did he bribe you with?” he asks Ba'yair, who simply flicks her tail in a slow motion, unbothered. Obi-Wan turns innocent eyes on his master when the man huffs again.

  


“She's angry you abandoned us,” he teases gently, “leaving the two of us all alone? Unbelievable!”

  


“It was only a month!” Qui-Gon exclaims, “that's hardly long enough for you two have already ganged up on me. Did something happen?” he asks suspiciously. Obi-Wan just shrugs, refusing to look up from Ba'yair, who is giving him a conspiratorial side-eye.

  


“Of course not,” he scoffs, “you'll find our records and consciences' are clean,” Ba'yair stretches out a clawed hand and gently taps his nose. Qui-Gon's gaze softens just a little.

  


“The apartment too,” Qui-Gon scolds, voice lacking any bite, “you know I like my apartment to maintain a healthy amount of life. If I didn't have the scars to remind me otherwise I'd think I was back in my padawan years!” Obi-Wan shrugs guiltily.

  


“Sorry, Master,” he says, and Qui-Gon sighs.

  


“I'll forgive you this once, for stealing my cat and all other offenses,” he says teasingly, reaching out to tug Obi-Wan's braid again.

  


Ba'yair lunges for him.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Ba'yair is defender no #1 of Obi's remaining hair. 
> 
> I made up Kashyyyk worms but in my mind they're a lot like tapeworms, but space, so deadly and fast working.
> 
> Ge'hutuun- serious criminal you have no respect for- abusive  
> dinii- lunatic  
> Ba'yair- chew  
> 'ika- familiar suffix meaning little


End file.
